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When an action-comedy leans too far in both directions, it risks collapsing under its ambitions. That’s the case here, where the premise has a lot going for it—government secrets, hired killers, and a mysterious protector—but the execution rarely sticks the landing. The film tries to juggle satire, suspense, and slapstick, but never fully commits to them. Instead, what could have been a punchy, stylized thriller becomes a muddled blend of concepts and erratic delivery.

What looks like a straightforward story about teenage girls growing up in the '90s gradually cracks open into something far more raw and personal. Director Jessica Rae delivers a debut that plays with expectation—what seems like a throwback drama at first becomes an intimate account of survival, self-discovery, and quiet rebellion. There’s no exaggeration here, just layered storytelling with a point of view that’s confident and grounded in real life.

What happens when a movie uses its setting not as an escape but as a cage, and reimagines the shark genre without relying on the shark as the villain? That question powers DANGEROUS ANIMALS, a genre blend that swims past surface-level thrills and aims for something more introspective. This story isn’t built around blood-in-the-water suspense but anchored in the deeper tensions of control, obsession, and the illusion of safety.

When a short film makes you laugh, smirk, and nod in recognition—all within a few minutes—you know it’s working with something special. A specific tone here feels unmistakably familiar, blending structured absurdity with the dry humor that only works when the creators fully commit. THE JUNGLE OF ACCOUNTING doesn’t aim to overwhelm its audience with punchlines or antics. Instead, it walks a careful line, crafting its comedy through nuanced character work, design choices that feel lovingly retro, and a narrative style that captures how we often mythologize our professional pasts.

When a story trusts its audience to observe rather than consume, it can be surprisingly intimate. That’s the strength in the middle of LIVE HEALTH, a short film that doesn’t rely on exposition to convey its message. Instead, it embraces the quiet discomfort of emotional, physical, and technological disconnection. What begins as a simple premise becomes a layered, perceptive exploration of the cost of compassion, especially for those tasked with offering it professionally.

Not every short film goes big, but when one does and remains on its feet, it's a project worth mentioning. With a sharp eye for irony and an otherwise off-the-beaten-path concept, this six-minute film doesn't just set out to elicit giggles—it raises real questions about control, emotional intimacy, and the hollow quest for the romantic ideal. What starts as a ridiculous setup turns into something stranger and wittier than expected without overstaying its welcome.

This film is trying for something more personal from the start. Clocking in at 43 minutes, IN THE FLESH is the kind of psychological thriller where the ambition is front and center, even if the execution occasionally stumbles. It doesn’t pretend to be perfect, but it does ask its audience to engage with it beyond surface value. From its small-scale production to its emotionally loaded premise, the film feels like an experiment with heart, rough around the edges, but grounded in a desire to explore something real.

Here’s a comedy that doesn’t just bend the rules of teen movies—it acts like it’s never heard of them. The script feels like it was scribbled during detention, passed between friends with a smirk, and somehow made it to the screen without being finished. That’s not an insult—it’s a compliment. In a genre that often feels formulaic, this one throws the formula out the window, replaces it with barely-there motivations, and dares you to find meaning in the mayhem.

Documentaries seldom feel like a reflection and a new beginning all in one, but that’s exactly the tone captured in ARCADES & LOVE SONGS: THE BALLAD OF WALTER DAY. This isn’t a walk down memory lane padded with nostalgia or a high-score victory lap. Instead, it’s a story that looks at its subject from a different angle, allowing viewers to see him outside his once-restrained frame. Known for his role in shaping competitive gaming, Walter Day returns not to defend his legacy but to chase a dream he left unfinished decades ago.

Season 4 of THE MADAME BLANC MYSTERIES continues to play to the series’ strengths while shaking up just enough to feel like a new chapter rather than a simple continuation. At this point, the show’s confidence is undeniable. It knows exactly what it’s doing—delivering bite-sized, well-crafted mysteries in a picturesque village, with just enough cheek, charm, and cleverness to keep longtime viewers coming back. What sets this season apart is how much more rooted it feels in character relationships and emotional stakes, while still delivering the cases of mystery that have become its bread and butter.

Some documentaries linger in the mind because of the magnitude of their subject. Others hold you because of how the story is told. NORITA manages to do both. It doesn't just present a portrait of Nora Cortiñas—it refuses to let her become a passive symbol of grief. Instead, it insists on the power of staying angry, staying present, and refusing to vanish.

SACRUM VINDICTAE II enters with the swagger of a revenge thriller that promises high-stakes drama, polish, and thematic weight. Instead, it delivers a fragmented showcase of potential, where moments of visual ambition and narrative intrigue collapse under the weight of underdeveloped characters, half-formed ideas, and emotional detachment. It isn’t without its redeeming qualities, but they’re buried beneath a surface-level commitment to style over cohesion.

DIRTY COP doesn’t waste time. With a runtime just under 20 minutes, it aims to pack a gritty, character-driven drama into a tight window—just enough space to introduce a man on the edge and suggest a whole world of consequences without being able to explore any of them fully. Directed by Elena Maria Dell Aguzzo and written by Fabian Farina, the short features Farina in the lead alongside Sarah Maria Paul and Staci Dickerson. It carries a familiar genre energy—corrupt law enforcement, internal chaos, a system that erodes the soul—but approaches it with the rawness of an indie short.

There’s a difference between pulling back the curtain and being the one stepping behind it. BONO: STORIES OF SURRENDER never quite decides what it’s doing. It sells itself as stripped down, honest, even disarmingly human. But what unfolds is a performance built from the bones of self-awareness, carefully choreographed vulnerability, and just enough mischief to keep the illusion of spontaneity intact. It’s like watching someone audition for the role of themselves—and in many ways, that’s exactly what this is.